An air impressionist Globalization 
For the same road in autumn meadows dot the meadow saffron. A couple of days, we deal more aware of the path of heaven. Rain had been announced. Finally, barely fell short orbayu early. The glare was filtered immediately as a thick broth through the clouds. She felt a relief of oil to the cliffs. Strong brushstrokes skyline. A color of clay to the beach. An air impressionist. A carefree calm to our steps and words. Two strokes on some stones tell the traveler the good sense to his departure: the tension of wire arranged over the cliff. Below, the sea came quietly. On the front Sueve mists clung. At the door of some houses flourished
glycine. Arrivals and the mason, was surprised at the violent roots of eucalyptus coming, that everything can, however, could not the ancient footprints of dinosaurs. X. took the photo of a girl whose foot often branded these craters. That lightened the color tone of fossil verse. In the village we expect a bowl game and a poor pans. Fresh cider and lively chat. The sun was out and a thought for a moment to resign to return; up suit with closed eyes lying on a chair on the terrace of the bar leaving the afternoon
consumed as chips in the warm glare of the sky. Desktop laziness took only a little way back. At its end, a pair of kites on the beach of the island gave him a meager candle closing day. As shortness of breath. The dog melancholy of everything that has and ends.
For the same road in autumn meadows dot the meadow saffron. A couple of days, we deal more aware of the path of heaven. Rain had been announced. Finally, barely fell short orbayu early. The glare was filtered immediately as a thick broth through the clouds. She felt a relief of oil to the cliffs. Strong brushstrokes skyline. A color of clay to the beach. An air impressionist. A carefree calm to our steps and words. Two strokes on some stones tell the traveler the good sense to his departure: the tension of wire arranged over the cliff. Below, the sea came quietly. On the front Sueve mists clung. At the door of some houses flourished 
glycine. Arrivals and the mason, was surprised at the violent roots of eucalyptus coming, that everything can, however, could not the ancient footprints of dinosaurs. X. took the photo of a girl whose foot often branded these craters. That lightened the color tone of fossil verse. In the village we expect a bowl game and a poor pans. Fresh cider and lively chat. The sun was out and a thought for a moment to resign to return; up suit with closed eyes lying on a chair on the terrace of the bar leaving the afternoon 
consumed as chips in the warm glare of the sky. Desktop laziness took only a little way back. At its end, a pair of kites on the beach of the island gave him a meager candle closing day. As shortness of breath. The dog melancholy of everything that has and ends. 
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